Silent Defender (Boardwalk Breakers Book 1)

by Nikki Worrell

  I parked my truck in front of Jennie’s yellow Cape Cod and admired the quaint home. The house stood on a corner lot, which gave her a decent-sized yard that only the year-round locals in these sections seemed to have. White flower boxes, filled with autumn-colored mums that hadn’t quite given in to the cold weather yet, hung from the windows on the front of the house. The combination of the bright color of the house with the live flowers decorating it made for great curb appeal.

  I made my way up to the front door via a brick walkway that ran up the center of the yard. Before I could knock, the door swung open. I felt my eyes crinkle and my lips curve at the sight of Jennie’s disheveled appearance. “Am I early?”

  Her hand flew up to her hair and she laughed. “No. I was just fighting with a bag of flour.” She swiped at the white on her form-fitting, long-sleeved T-shirt. “As you can see, I lost.”

  She grabbed the bag of steaks from me. Since my hands were free, I signed. Flour? Are you baking? That would put me on the flour’s side for a win.

  She squeezed my arm and gifted me with a smile. “Biscuits.”

  Oh my, God. Biscuits. I almost felt sorry for her. No one made biscuits like my own mother. I missed them a lot. I love biscuits, so I’ll overlook the flour in your hair…and on your shirt…and on your pants.

  Instead of being embarrassed, her smile grew wider. “Then come on in. Watch your step. I’ve been packing up some stuff for the Veterans association to pick up.”

  And she had been. There were at least five large bags sitting in the entryway. Yet another positive mark for her. My parents were both veterans, so her caring meant something to me.

  “Wow. It smells great in here. What’s cooking?”

  She put the bag with the steaks down on the multi-colored granite counter before she turned to me.

  Twice-baked potatoes and sautéed green beans with onions, garlic, cayenne pepper, and butter. And mushrooms for the steak, of course.

  I had definitely gotten the better end of this deal. Sounds delicious.

  Would you like some wine, or beer?

  I’ll take a beer. Whatever you’ve got. I’m not picky.

  She handed me a Molson and poured a glass of wine for herself. After a sip, she ushered me toward a stool at the counter.

  I just have to finish the biscuits and get them ready for the oven. We should be ready to eat in about thirty minutes or so.

  I watched her work in silence. It was obvious from the easy way her hands moved that she was used to cooking. Her movements were calculated and efficient, kneading the dough while sprinkling flour around as needed.

  When she pulled a drinking glass out of the cupboard to form the biscuits, I grinned. “My mother uses a glass to cut her biscuit dough too.”

  “I learned it from the Food Network. Cooking shows are my guilty pleasure.”

  “Tell me more. Do you see your parents a lot?”

  She shook her head no. There was a sadness that came over her I wished I could erase. “They’re both gone. It was a one in a million occurrence.”

  The biscuits were all lined up in the pan. I waited patiently for her to continue, but she turned away from me to clean up her dishes and the counter. I got up to help her. Our hands touched when I took the mixing bowl from her to dry it. “I’m sorry. We don’t need to talk about it.”

  She shrugged and met my eyes. “It’s just still so hard.” She took a breath, and when she let it out she started talking again. “My sister lived in Oklahoma with her husband and daughter. She was ten years older than me. I was kind of a surprise.”

  “A happy one, I’d bet.”

  She nodded. “That’s what Mom and Dad always said. So, they went to visit and long story short, a tornado leveled the shopping mall they were having lunch in. All of them, gone. My whole family. Just like that.” I could tell she was fighting her sorrow, but even so, her eyes filled.

  “Oh, Jennie. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” I pulled her to me and wrapped my arms around her. She let me hold her for a minute before pulling away, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “Wow. Sorry about that. Sometimes it feels so fresh, like it just happened last week.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. I don’t know what else to say, except that sucks on the largest scale.”

  She shrugged in resignation. “That it does. So now it’s just me. And Izzy.”

  “Izzy?”

  Her face lit up as her sorrow was replaced with joy. “Yeah. She’s my best friend. She’s another sister to me. Without her, I don’t know what I’d do. She’s almost an orphan too. She only has one grandfather left, who is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. He lives in a nursing home now, but luckily he still has a lot of good days.”

  “How did you meet Izzy?” I loved this part of dating Jennie. I wanted to know about her friends and family, though I wished she still had her parents and sister.

  “We work together.”

  My nose flared involuntarily, and Jennie smirked at me as she shook her head. “She’s not a reporter. She’s an editor.”

  We kept up a steady stream of chatter while Jennie finished cleaning up her kitchen and put marinade on the steaks. “Want to go start the grill for me?”

  “Sure.” I did as she asked, rubbing my arms from the winds whipping around on the back patio. It was the one downfall to grilling outside in November.

  Dinner was delicious, as I figured it would be. With the dishwasher loaded and the sun setting, Jennie pulled me into the living room where she had the fireplace going.

  With no other light in the room, I found lipreading a bit more difficult. Jennie said something but I missed most of it. Do you mind signing?

  Of course not. She looked around the room, nodding in understanding. Would you rather I put some lights on?

  Not really. This was where my lack of hearing was trying for me. I wanted to pull her into the V of my legs and enjoy the fire, but then I couldn’t talk to her. Not easily.

  We sat on the couch, turned slightly toward each other. She regarded me with curiosity. Do you mind silence so much?

  No. Not all the time. I’m used to it after all.

  Good. I like the silence sometimes. It’s peaceful, especially after being in a locker room full of testosterone after a game. She winked at me to soften her words. No offense, of course.

  None taken.

  So how about this? She pushed me away so that my back was against the arm of the couch. Then she took off both of my shoes. I was intrigued. She mimed me putting my right leg up on the couch, running down the length of it so that she could settle up against me, her back to my front. It took a little jostling and some laughter, but we got comfortable.

  My arms were around her waist with her hands resting on top of mine. Her head leaned back to rest on my chest and we just sat there looking at the fire. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so…quiet. Peaceful. I was simply comfortable. Who needed constant conversation?

  We sat like that for so long that my leg was in danger of falling asleep. Jennie already had. I wouldn’t have moved for anything in the world, though. I liked her being in my arms. A few minutes later I nodded off too.

  I woke when Jennie’s elbow accidently hit me in a most delicate spot as she shifted positions. Her body turned and her arms went around my waist. She still wasn’t fully awake. She came to in degrees.

  When she realized how she was snuggled up against me, instead of jumping off, she put her chin on my chest and looked up at me with an impish grin. “Should I apologize? I tend to move around a lot when I sleep. And I tend to fall asleep in front of the fireplace.”

  I just shook my head and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I nodded off myself. It feels good in here.”

  “It does.” To my regret, she pushed away from me and stood up, stretching that lovely body out before me. I saw a creamy strip of skin on her belly as she lifted her arms. I’ll be right back.

  She was only gone a minute and came bac
k with two glasses of ice-cold water. The room had gotten pretty warm, so the frosty drink was welcome. I looked at my watch to see it was near nine o’clock. Knowing Jennie had to get up early for work in the morning, I stood up to leave. I should go.

  Yes. You probably should. And then she surprised me in a most pleasant way. She took both of our glasses and put them on the coffee table before wrapping her arms around my neck. “Kiss me?”

  I didn’t have to be asked twice. My lips came down on hers softly, my hands resting on her waist. When she parted her lips, my tongue immediately slipped inside to taste her. I could feel the vibration of her moan in my mouth. Hell, I felt it all the way down to my toes.

  Her lips were soft and plump, and there was nowhere else I wanted to be in all the world than standing there kissing Jennie Fields. As our kiss deepened, my hands went to her hips and dug in, eliciting another long moan from her throat. I wanted to put my lips there. I loved kissing a woman’s neck and throat. Maybe it was because I could hear her there.

  Her fingers speared through my hair, making me glad I’d missed my last few cutting appointments. The way she pulled on it shot right to my groin. Our kiss went on and on. Hands down, it was the best kiss I’d ever shared. Before I got carried away and took things too far, I gentled the pressure and began to pull away, rubbing her back as I did.

  Her lids were heavy as she peeked up at me. “Wow.”

  “Wow, indeed. Okay. Thank you for dinner.” We were still mashed up against each other. Before I could talk myself out of it, I went back in for round two. This time my hands wandered down to cup her bottom and pull her even closer to me. I picked her up, her response being to wrap her legs around my waist. A couple of steps later, I had her sitting on the island counter, her legs still hooked around me.

  She ran her hands over my chest and through my hair again and again. It felt amazing. She felt amazing. I wanted to take her right there on the unforgiving granite. I’m not sure what gave me the strength to pull away again, but I did. We were both breathing as if we’d just finished an ultra-marathon.

  With a flush to her cheeks, she pushed me back farther. Sorry, did I get carried away?

  She thought I’d pulled away because I wasn’t interested anymore? I’d had enough? She was crazy. Yes, as you can see, I hated it. There was no hiding my interest, even in my snugly fitting jeans. It was awful. Worst kiss I’ve ever had.

  She laughed, as I’d meant her to. Yeah, me too.

  I could tell.

  I kissed her nose and ran my hands down her arms and locked our fingers together. The soft glow from the light over the oven was enough for me to see her clearly. “This chemistry or whatever it is between us is good, but I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Jennie. Help me out, will you?” A glint of humor crossed her face as I teased her.

  She leaned toward me and placed her forehead on my chest, her hands on my waist. I pulled her up so I could hug her, but my lips found their way to her neck, and just like that, we were kissing like seasoned lovers once more.

  When we pulled apart the third time, we were both laughing. “You’re not helping, Jen.” I took a deep breath, reining in my baser urges. “I really should go.” Would it really ruin things if I hauled her off to bed? No. I wasn’t going to do that—not yet.

  “Yes. Okay. Go. Now.” She grinned like crazy before she pushed me away, jumped off the counter, and walked me to the door. When I leaned in for one last kiss, she shook her head and playfully shoved me out.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Yes, please. I had a really good time tonight, Magnus. Best time I’ve had in a while. Thank you for coming over.”

  She looked happy as she stood there leaning against the doorframe. Her smile stayed firmly in place, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. I’d put that look there, and I was sure mine mirrored hers. She was worth waiting for—building a solid foundation with before we rewarded ourselves with what I knew would be incredible sex. I liked the direction we were heading, in any case.

  Chapter 8

  Jennie

  With wine in hand, Izzy and I planned Thanksgiving dinner, sitting at the island in my kitchen. I’d invited Mags to join us, since his parents traditionally spent the holiday with his mother’s tribe. I’d learned that she was Native American—Tlingit, to be exact. They didn’t have a traditional turkey dinner, but her family did get together for the holidays. Mags had told me their dinner consisted of a mixture of things. Traditionally, his mother’s family ate moose and venison as their meat and then added the sweet potatoes, cranberries, mashed potatoes, and even green bean casserole. Pumpkin pie was also a must at his mother’s family gatherings. He said he was sorry to be missing it, but the Breakers had a rare Thanksgiving game at noon, and too many of his other family members couldn’t swing their schedules to delay celebrating the holiday until Friday.

  Izzy got up off her stool and rooted through my junk mail as usual. “So are you sure you’re okay with the new plans?” I’d broached the subject with Mags. I wanted him to join Izzy, her grandpa, and me for dinner, but he’d already committed to dinner at Riordan O’Dell’s, their captain. It wasn’t uncommon for a group of the guys to get together for holidays—especially since they had a game that day, preventing a lot of them from being able to join their families.

  “Are you kidding? Join the Breakers for Thanksgiving dinner? Pop’s on cloud nine. Do you not remember how much he loves sports? He’s been buying hockey cards online and paying exorbitant shipping fees to have them in time so the guys can sign them for him.” A flash of grief marred her face. “I just hope he has a good day.”

  I reached toward her and gripped her hand. “Oh, Iz. I hope so too, but don’t worry about that. We’ll deal with it if it happens.” Izzy didn’t take her grandfather out of the nursing home for long stints anymore, since the longer he was away from his normal routine, the more agitated he became. I fervently hoped Thanksgiving would be a great day for him, but if not, I’d be there to help them both through it.

  “You’re right, of course.” She shook off the negative vibe and returned to her normal upbeat self. “So what’s the plan? And, oh my God! I can’t believe I’m having dinner with the freaking Atlantic City Breakers!”

  I rolled my eyes at her. I knew this could backfire. Izzy could be a tad over-the-top in her enthusiasms—men being at the top of her list. “Just be your charming self.” That was one thing that drove me nutso about Izzy: she tried to be whatever she thought other people wanted her to be. I strongly believed that was why she was single. She didn’t see how incredible her simple old self was and tried too hard to be something she wasn’t.

  Izzy didn’t want to be single. And, my God, she had everything to offer. She was cute as a button, had a heart of gold, a great job, and was loyal to a fault. I think I was the only person she ever disagreed with, and it drove me bonkers that she cowed to others. I prayed for the day she’d find someone who saw her for who she really was and not just the yes girl.

  “Sure. My charming self. So, how many people are we talking about?”

  When Mags had told me they were planning on having dinner delivered since they were playing that day, I convinced him to let Izzy and I cook for everyone instead. He readily agreed and thanked me vehemently, confirming my suspicion that he was not looking forward to a delivered Thanksgiving meal. He’d already given me a key to O’Dell’s swanky, three-story home on the bay in Sea Isle where the dinner would be hosted. Since Riordan’s kitchen was on the second floor, and due to the house sitting on pylons, making the second floor actually the third, I was stoked to find out he had an elevator.

  “Mags said about ten.”

  “Oh, all singles?” I saw what may have been drool in the corner of her mouth.

  “No, but a couple.” I grabbed my list. “There’s us and Mags, of course. Your grandfather, O’Dell, his girlfriend Elise, Mitchell—their enforcer, the equipment manager Derrick and his wife, and Justin Calloway.”
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  Izzy’s lip pushed out in a pout. “No Cage?”

  I laughed at her. She’d always had a thing for Cage Booker. It was hard not to. He was a beautiful man, and a bad boy to boot. At least he was before he met Karen. “No. He along with his wife and kids are hosting their own dinner right after the game. Karen’s brother Jody and his family are flying in from San Diego, plus Karen invited some of the other guys on the team who couldn’t make it home.”

  “Damn. He’s so very nice to look at.” She wasn’t wrong, even though my tastes ran in different circles these days. Magnus was as fair as Cage was dark. White blond and clean shaven versus dark brown with scruff. I had always thought I’d gravitated more toward the dark, mysterious guy. Turned out I was wrong. It was the fair Viking that got my panties in a bunch.

  “Well, he’s taken, so suck it up. Jaromir’s sweet, but he’s probably too young for you.” There was no telling where Izzy’s feelings were on age. She wasn’t picky.

  “How old is he?”

  “I think he just turned twenty or twenty-one. I don’t know, Google him.”

  She punched away on her phone before stating that he wouldn’t do. “He is a bit young for me and his English isn’t there yet. Maybe in a year or two.”

  “Since when do you need to know what he’s saying?” I raised my brows. Not that Izzy was promiscuous—she was just not so much into the intellect of her dates.

  “Ha ha, very funny. I’m not that bad, am I?”

  “No, of course you’re not. What about Simard? He’s hot. And just your type. He’s physical, seems nice, and doesn’t ever put himself above anyone else on his team. Talk about being a protector.”